Golden
by AmazingSoulWeasel
Summary: A series of oneshots focusing on the relationship between the male PC and Zevran because there just isn't enough Zev in game. Slash/yaoi/MxM/etc.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Dragon Age, it's characters and such belong to EA and Bioware, not me. Though, I'm still going to lay claim to my Caylunne. They aren't getting their hands on him.

-sigh- And here we go again. I swear I still don't like fanfiction. D: Just because I write it occasionally. YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING. Anywho, this if the first of what will most likely be a number of oneshots focused on my character Caylunne and Zevran, since the lack of Zev in the actual game makes me rage. Enjoy. :D

* * *

All his life, Caylunne had never been especially good at masking his emotions. Be it anger, or love, despair or joy, somehow he would always manage to give himself away. And that night, as they returned to their own camp in the Brecilian outskirts, the hurt in his expression was clear for all to see.

Wynne was the first to try and find out what had caused his unhappiness. As he kicked around beside his tent she approached and asked him if there was anything he wanted to talk about, in that motherly, caring way of hers. Caylunne had simply shook his head and dismissed her as politely as he could. Never-the-less, she caught the sharp edge of his tone – all the indication she needed to know that something was off.

After her, it was Leliana. When Caylunne showed no signs of coming to sit by the fire to eat, she took him a bowl and coaxed him into sitting with her beside her tent to eat. He was reluctant, but eventually complied. It was a small victory, however, as despite managing to get him to sit with her, Leliana was no more successful at getting him to talk than Wynne had been.

Then it was Alistair's turn. After a little bullying from Leliana, he agreed, albeit with a great deal of whining about how he 'wasn't good at things like that'. Caylunne heard it from where he was sitting on his bedroll, and a small smile graced his lips, but other than that, he didn't cheer up. When Alistair finally did come over to talk to him, the other Grey Warden ended up prattling on about Maker knows what. Caylunne made no effort to correct him. When he finally forgot what he was supposed to be talking to Caylunne about, Alistair said good night and wandered away to find something else to eat.

By then, just about everyone who cared enough to try and find out what was the matter with Caylunne had given up and returned to their duties and chores. They cared about the young city elf, of course, but he was a Grey Warden and they would not coddle him.

Except Dog, of course. He was more than happy to coddle his master. It wasn't as if there was anything better for him to do after all.

Caylunne was sitting with Dog by the fire, gently flicking his ears and watching the strings of drool hanging from his mouth with a kind of disgusted fascination when Zevran approached. Dog noticed him first and looked up with a high pitched curious whine. Caylunne followed his gaze and nodded when Zevran smiled at him. He didn't object when the other elf settled down on the ground beside him, and returned to the task of playing with Dog's ears.

He supposed he should have expected Zevran was the observational type, but it still surprised him when the assassin said, "You thought they would be different, didn't you?"

Tearing his attention away from Dog's ears, Caylunne turned to frown at him. "Who?" he said, before he could stop himself. He didn't want to discuss it, but his own surprise had tricked him into feeding the conversation.

"The Dalish, of course," Zevran replied, shooting him that slight, smug little smile that under normal circumstances had Caylunne smiling right back, before he even realised he was doing it.

"I-" he started to say, meaning to protest and deny it. When one of Zevran's eyebrows arched, however, that protest died on his lips. He didn't know if it was actually impossible to get things past the Crow, or if he was just a very good bluffer, but even so, he couldn't lie when Zevran was _looking_ at him like that. "Maybe. I just... in the Alienage, people always spoke of the Dalish so highly. Well, except my cousin. He said they were savages, but even that would have been preferable to..." he trailed off and gave a little shake of his head, "...to _that_."

Zevran leaned closer, just a little. "You thought they would welcome you with open arms?"

Caylunne shook his head again, this time with a little more anger. "No, of course not. I don't know what I thought. But I know I never expected them to- to treat me like I'm _less_ than them. They act so high and mighty, like there's something so precious and wonderful about them because they prance around in their forests, worshipping their own special gods, but if they treat me like I'm less than dirt, how can they honestly say they are any better than the humans?"

The little outburst earned him two raised eyebrows and a broader smile this time. "Precisely. I do hope you inform them of their hypocrisy tomorrow. I'm sure it will make for entertaining viewing." Caylunne sniffed out an unenthusiastic little laugh, but his face finally stopped looking like it was about to drop off. "And for the record, you may rant at me about the injustices that the world throws at us poor elves who grew up in cities whenever you feel the need. I will be very sympathetic. I promise. You can even cry on my shoulder, if you like. I certainly won't protest. In fact, I may even encourage it."

Caylunne said nothing to that for a long moment, instead choosing to just stare at Zevran with a half-hearted attempt at disapproval. "You know, Wynne is right. You really cannot have a single serious conversation without flirting, can you?"

"_Flirting_?" Zevran said, faking a scandalised expression. "I do not know what you mean, my dear Warden. Indeed, if your mind so readily connects the offer of a shoulder to cry on with flirting, perhaps you are the one with underhanded intentions. No?"

Gaping at the other elf, Caylunne only shook his head and did his very best to stifle the laugh that almost escaped him. "You are _truly_ impossible. I hope you know that. Good night, Zevran." He stood up, Dog standing as well to follow him. He hesitated before walking away however, and after a pause, he added, "And... thank you. I didn't want to talk about it, but it... well it helped."

"Anything for you," Zevran replied smoothly as he too stood up. "Sleep well."

"And you." And with that they went to their respective tents. Dog settled down outside of Caylunne's tent to watch for darkspawn or particularly malicious squirrels, and Caylunne dragged his bedroll inside to sleep. It came far easier to him than he'd been expecting it to that night, and he begrudgingly gave Zevran the credit for his clearer mind. Perhaps sparing the assassin hadn't been such a bad idea after all.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day had been no more pleasant than the first. They had returned to the Dalish camp first thing the next morning and Caylunne's curiosity about exactly what Zathrian hadn't told had kept him from leaving the forest until the deed was done with.

The story was tragic. There was no denying that. And when Caylunne had finally allowed the group to trudge back to camp late that night, they had all been exhausted, some of them emotionally as well as physically. Wynne had returned to her tent quietly to contemplate the day's events, Alistair had eaten in silence then skulked off somewhere to avoid questions. Even Zevran seemed affected by what they had learned, and had slunk off to his tent without eating.

He was still there when Caylunne came wandering by later, much to the Gray Warden's relief. He hesitated before scratching at the material at the door of the tent, announcing his arrival. There was a hesitation, before the flap was pulled back and Zevran poked his head out. He smiled when he saw who it was and tilted his head, his eyes narrowing a little. "Ah, Caylunne. Don't you think it is a little early in our relationship for secret midnight liaisons?"

Caylunne closed his eyes and smiled, used to this behaviour now, even if he still wasn't sure what to make of it. "That's not why I'm here and you know it." He paused and glanced around secretively, before realising how that probably looked to the other elf. Just as he'd been expecting, when he turned back to him, Zevran's expression was just that much more devious.

"Are you _sure_ you're not here for that?"

"Can I come in?" Caylunne asked exasperatedly, choosing to ignore the question. Zevran chuckled but nodded, moving back into the tent so that Caylunne could follow him inside. After making sure one last time that no one was watching, he crawled inside after him. He really wasn't there for what Zevran was suggesting, but that didn't mean he wanted everyone in the camp knowing he was sneaking into Zevran's tent at night. He was well aware of how incriminating it looked.

The tent wasn't cramped with both of them in there – he imagined it would be worse if he'd crept into Sten's tent – but there wasn't much room between them. It was dark with only a faint glow from the campfire outside, but after a brief moment of listening to Zevran rustling around in his bag a match was struck and he lit a candle that sat in a small metal lantern in the corner of the tent. The light was welcome and Caylunne relaxed a little.

"Now then," Zevran said, giving the match a little shake to put it out, "If you're not here for recreational purposes... is something wrong?"

Caylunne fidgeted and gave an uncertain shrug. "I just wanted to- I wanted someone to talk to. You said last night that I could talk to you..." He trailed off, giving Zevran the chance to take it back. He didn't, instead staying silent and just nodding for him to continue. "I can't talk to the others," he murmured, looking down at his hands and fiddling with the straps on his gloves.

"Why not? They seem to like you well enough. I don't think they'd begrudge you the time to talk," Zevran replied, drawing one leg up to lean on it.

"I know they do," Caylunne said, tugging at his glove a little harder. "It's just... they- well..."

Zevran seemed to catch on then. "Ah, I see. They're human."

Caylunne nodded. "I do... like them but I still don't really trust them. I know I have no reason not to, but I just can't _help _it." He sighed and rubbed a hand across his face in frustration. "Do you understand what I mean?"

"Old habits die hard, as they say," Zevran said, reaching out and placing a hand firmly on Caylunne's forearm, making the younger elf jump but focus and pay attention to what he was saying all the same. "I don't know what happened to you in your past, but it certainly doesn't surprise me that you would be wary around humans still."

Looking away briefly, before letting his gaze return to meet Zevran's, Caylunne shifted and tried not to look too hopeful. "You think? I'm not... I'm not just being unnecessarily prejudiced, am I?" Zevran shook his head.

"They cannot fault you for feeling the way you do, so you shouldn't fault yourself either," he said lightly, shrugging a little. "Besides, you have more important things to worry about."

"Like the darkspawn. I know," Caylunne replied, scowling at his hands.

"Well, yes," Zevran said, and suddenly the smooth, sly tone was back to his voice. Caylunne braced himself for impact, "But I was thinking more along the lines of what I'm going to do to you now that I have you in my tent."

He did try not to laugh. He really did. He bit his tongue and held his breath, clenching his fists in his lap, but it wasn't enough. A small snort escaped him and before he could stop himself, he had his face hidden in his hands as he laughed himself stupid.

When he finally recovered his took off his gloves to wipe his eyes. "Maker's breath, Zevran. I'm sitting here pouring my heart out to you, and still you persist with the flirting. Do you always use such deceitful tactics to seduce people?"

"Not _always_," Zevran said, pretending to be stung by the accusation. "Only with the stubborn ones who do not fall for my charms as quickly as I'd like. Like you, for example."

Caylunne gave Zevran a long, amused stare but shook his head. "I knew I was going to regret bringing you along. You'll be the death of me eventually, just not the way you might have been expecting."

"If you'd prefer I stopped..." Zevran trailed expectantly, watching Caylunne intently for his answer. The city elf hesitated, fidgeting some more before shaking his head.

"No, I didn't say I wanted you to stop..." he said cautiously, as he made a point of not looking at Zevran at all as he said it. It was the closest he'd ever come to outright admitting that his disinterest in women did not stem from a disinterest in romance in general, and despite knowing that Zevran certainly wasn't perturbed at the idea of... _relations _between two men, he still felt quite awkward about it.

"Good," Zevran said, a smug undertone to his voice. "I'm glad."

Caylunne smiled and lowered his gaze, staring at the bedroll he and Zevran were sitting on. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked suddenly, looking up at the other elf with a small frown marring his face. He instantly knew that had come out wrong when Zevran's eyebrows shot up and the corners of his mouth curled upwards.

"But my dear Caylunne, I thought you said you weren't here for such _shenanigans_," he said, his tone all faux sweetness and light. The blood rushed to Caylunne's face so fast it made him dizzy.

"That's not- I meant that... I meant the tent! Can I sleep in the tent! Can I sleep with you in the tent?" Judging by the fact that Zevran's expression didn't shift at all, except to become nominally more wicked, that hadn't come out right either. "No, I meant- hang on." He stopped and thought about it this time, before saying, very carefully, "Can I sleep _in the tent_ with you?"

Zevran laughed, clearly amused by Caylunne's difficulty producing sentences that were not accidental propositions. "If you like, though may I ask why?"

Caylunne huffed at being laughed at but answered compliantly anyway. "Everything that happened today spooked me a little. Plus your tent is closer to the camp fire. And Alistair snores."

"Ah. All valid reasons. Very well, I'm not going to reject such a request from someone as lovely as you. Make yourself comfortable."

After removing as much of his armour of he felt comfortable taking off, and waiting for Zevran to do the same, Caylunne moved a little further on to the bedroll to lie down. Before he managed to do so, however, Zevran gently caught his chin in his hand and turned his head to the side. "What are you-" he started to ask, but then he felt Zevran's fingers removing the two bands from his hair and teasing the blonde strands out of the tight braid he normally wore his hair in. "Oh."

"I imagine that will be more comfortable for you," Zevran said, with a smile, before he lay down, leaving a decent amount of space for Caylunne. Caylunne hesitated for a moment, startled by the feeling of his hair being around his face, rather than pulled back in the braid or slicked against his skull with either blood or water, before settling down on the bed beside the assassin. He blew out the candle in the lantern and closed his eyes.

As he drifted off, he was pleasantly surprised to find Zevran didn't once try to touch him, bar the tiniest bit of contact between his forearm and Caylunne's back. He focused on that little patch of warmth against his skin and was comforted by it as he finally fell into a blessedly dreamless sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"But what was it really like, living in the alienage?"

Lying on his side by the campfire, using Dog as a pillow, Caylunne glanced around at those of his companions who had joined him by the fire. Leliana was sitting to his right, being as inquisitive as ever about his past. He was touched that she seemed so interested in the plight of the alienage elves, but uneasy about talking of his own life.

Wynne was beside her, quiet but attentive, taking in everything that was said and occasionally piping up with some word of wisdom or a gentle reprimanding remark. She too seemed overly interested in Caylunne's past, and he hoped she wouldn't outright ask. He could never keep anything from her if she _asked _him. It was the reason why she was the only one who knew the circumstances that led up to his recruitment.

But even then, she didn't know everything.

Alistair was opposite him, on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with some bandages on his arm, and occasionally cowering from stern looks Wynne shot his way whenever she caught him at it. He seemed cheerfully oblivious about Caylunne's discomfort and was quick to follow up Leliana's questions with one or five of his own.

Beside him was Oghren. The dwarf was being blessedly silent for once, but that was mostly because he was unconscious.

And finally, on Caylunne's other side was Zevran. He was sitting far closer than was strictly necessary, and Caylunne was convinced he was edging closer whenever he wasn't looking. Alistair seemed to have picked up on it as well, and would occasionally shoot semi-threatening glares in the assassin's direction.

"Haven't you ever been to an alienage?" he finally asked in return, trying to sound more bored than rattled.

His not so subtle avoidance of the subject didn't go unnoticed, but Leliana didn't seem willing to give up yet. "I have been to a few in my time, but the elves there were not exactly forthcoming. I didn't really learn anything about them, other than that they are mistrustful of humans, but that is already common knowledge." She frowned a little, obviously hesitant to push him. Eventually though, her curiosity won out. "I just wonder what it is that makes elves hate humans so much. I've only ever seen the humans' side of things; the occasional harsh reprimand is the worst I've witnessed. Most humans in high society like to appear benevolent, after all. At least in public."

"Then you've been mingling with different nobles than I," Zevran said, glancing at Caylunne out of the corner of his eye. "There were times when I had to pose as a servant to get close to a mark and let me tell you, they were not afraid to manhandle me in front of their guests. I think pushing meek, defenceless elves around made them feel powerful." He pulled a disgusted face. "I always did prefer a quick death for my targets, but I cannot honestly say that those men died swiftly."

"I wish I could say the same," Caylunne muttered under his breath. _Cutting Vaughan's throat was a mistake_, he thought, _I should have gutted him_.

The comment was a mistake however, as the drifting focus of the conversation was brought crashing down right on top of his head once more. Alistair shuffled on his bit of tree stump and eyed Caylunne in a half innocent, half shifty kind of way. "So... what does happen to elves then? Like, what _really_ happens to them? I mean, if Arl Eamon gets his way and I do end up king," he pulled a sour face at the thought, "It would be helpful to know what goes on in the alienages so I can try and make things better. Right?"

Caylunne was no fool and he caught on immediately that Alistair was only saying that to try and weasel answers out of him. The other Grey Warden had no intention of ever becoming king, so it seemed very unlikely that he would already be making plans for what he would do if he did end up on the throne. However, he was running out of ways to avoid the subject without making them suspicious as to his reasons. With a sigh, he finally gave in.

"All right, _fine_. If you want to know that much I'll tell you." He pushed himself up into a sitting position, so that he was no longer lying on Dog and crossed his legs. "Hunger and sickness are our primary problem. Food is hard to come by as it is, and when we finally do get it we have to eat in immediately, lest it goes bad and is wasted. Alienages aren't exactly hygienic places. Which leads nicely to the sickness. It rare for anyone in the alienage to not be sick for more than a month or two. My cousin, Soris seems to be the exception. Probably because he rolled around in all kinds of filth when he was a kid..." He trailed off for a moment, smiling faintly at the memory. "About once a year a full blown plague would hit the alienage. People would die, usually children, and as horrible as it seems, some people would be glad to be rid of the extra mouth to feed."

Only Zevran didn't seem overly horrified by that statement. "But... I thought alienage elves valued their families and community above all else?" Wynne said, sounding both alarmed and saddened.

"We do," Caylunne replied with an almost nonchalant one shouldered shrug, "But a sense of community and love doesn't do anything for an empty stomach or a sick child. Of course, we mourn the loss, but the relief is still there.

"As for the humans..." He sighed heavily and clasped his hands in his lap. "As if watching lords and ladies stuff their faces and waste their money on frivolities and petty trinkets that could feed an elven family for a month didn't feed the resentment... Well, let's just say most of the humans I encountered were never exactly friendly. Most elves I know have been used as sparring practice for a bored human at least once in their lives." He stopped suddenly, his gaze darkening. "And of course, in some cases they were _too_ friendly."

They sat in silence for a while as Caylunne stewed in his own personal fury. Just when they were beginning to think he had no intention of continuing, he said, "My other cousin, Shianni, was raped by the Arl of Denerim's son. I slaughtered him and all his men like dogs, but I was still too late to help her."

Leliana's expression was one of genuine anguish and she looked down at her hands guiltily. "I'm... sorry, Caylunne. I should not have brought it up."

"...It's fine," he replied with a slight shake of his head.

"I can't believe any man could do something like that to a helpless woman," Alistair murmured, his joking tone from before completely gone now.

Caylunne scoffed and fixed Alistair with a half sneer. "If you think it was only women they-"

That was it. He'd definitely said too much. As it was, however, it was the abrupt end to his sentence that seemed to have triggered the downward spiral to an unpleasant yet accurate assumption. He could see it on their faces – the dawning horror on Leliana's, the burst of motherly concern on Wynne's. It took longer for Alistair to catch on, but it was clear when he did if the sudden look of fierce protectiveness was anything to go by.

Oddly enough, however, it was Zevran's reaction that stung Caylunne the most. The teasing glint that almost always hovered around his eyes seemed to fade, until he couldn't see it anymore. And then Zevran turned away from him, looking at the campfire instead.

"You were-?" Alistair started to say, but Caylunne cut him off quickly.

"Don't. Don't ask me that," he said brusquely. Dog whined, sensing his master's discomfort and Caylunne patted his head gently. "I'm tired of talking now. Good night."

He stood then, patting his hip to urge Dog to follow. The mabari lumbered to his feet and padded after him towards the tent. His weren't the only footsteps behind him however, though the second set was quieter, and decidedly hesitant. He didn't stop to face his follower until he reached his tent, a safe distance from the campfire and well out of earshot of the others.

Zevran was standing there, just as he'd been expecting. The assassin looked rather thrown by what he'd just learned, and the expression put Caylunne equally out of balance. It was so odd to see Zevran lacking in his usual swaggering confidence.

"What is it?" he asked, folding his arms and eyeing Zevran uncertainly. Serious talks and Zevran did not go well together, and he was almost dreading what the other elf was going to say.

Zevran shifted his weight awkwardly for a moment before finally settling on folding his arms and just standing there rigidly. "I- well, I just wanted to apologise if my behaviour over the last couple of weeks has made you uncomfortable. I had no idea-"

Holding up a hand to halt Zevran there, Caylunne shook his head. "Don't. I'm not a delicate flower. What happened... it was a long time ago. A bit of flirting isn't going to make me fall apart at the seams."

"I see." He still did not look convinced.

"Zevran-" He sighed and looked off to the side, into the trees that surrounded the campsite. "Did I ever seem unhappy with anything you've said or done since we've met?"

Zevran raised an eyebrow and a tiny flicker of that gleam returned. "You mean besides when I tried to kill you? No, not really. I assumed you were just playing hard to get."

A small laugh escaped Caylunne and he closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Well then. I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat me any differently. It is not a great tragedy in my life, but it is shameful and I don't need to be reminded of it every time you look at me like that."

"Like what?" Zevran said, almost defensively.

"Like I'm fragile," Caylunne replied. "Like how you're looking at me right now."

Zevran blinked before straightening up and clearing his throat awkwardly. "I-"

This wasn't going anywhere fast, or at least not anywhere Caylunne wanted it to go. "Say something flirty."

"What?"

Sighing and rubbing his hands across his face wearily, Caylunne shot Zevran a long, disbelieving stare. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd have to explain flirting to you," he muttered under his breath. "_Flirt with me_. It's not difficult. You've been doing it since the moment you stopped trying to stab me in the back."

"Ah yes. If I recall correctly, though my memory of the event in question is a tad foggy, I was tied up, wasn't I?" A little more of that gleam returned. "It's odd that I think of you as such a sweet mannered little thing, considering the circumstances of our introduction."

Caylunne nodded slowly, gesturing for Zevran to continue. "Better..."

"In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if that innocent act is not just a ruse to deceive people into underestimating your... _abilities_." And now Zevran's eyes were gleaming fully once more, right along with a positively fiendish smirk.

"Ah, the significant pause and charming euphemism." Caylunne smiled, trying not to let the relief show and turned slightly, back towards his tent. "It's nice to see you're back to normal. Keep it that way and if you're lucky you may just get to find out whether my innocence is just a ruse or not."

Zevran chuckled softly. "Promises, promises. I'll hold you to that."

Smiling, Caylunne nodded and slipped inside his tent, leaving Dog outside to watch for darkspawn. He heard Zevran mutter something to the mabari, but couldn't make out what, and then the assassin's footsteps retreated in the direction of his own tent. The sound was oddly upsetting.

He changed into a set of regular clothing, better suited to sleeping and crawled under his thin blanket. He couldn't sleep, however, being too worried about having to deal with Alistair, Wynne and Leliana's reactions in the morning. Sleep still hadn't come to him half an hour later when Alistair came sneaking into the tent they shared, attempting to be quiet and not really succeeding. Stealth was not his strong point.

Caylunne waited until the other warden had settled down before he made his move. He shuffled his bedroll across the floor until it was right beside Alistair's. He didn't seem to have noticed the approach until Caylunne was right beside him and he jumped a little when the elf loomed over him. Caylunne just shook his head though, before lying down once again and closing his eyes. He could almost sense the tension – Alistair wanted to ask about what had happened to him, perhaps about what he'd said to Zevran, but after a moment he seemed to come to the conclusion that doing so would do nothing.

The feather light touch to the top of his head was unexpected, and he twitched a little in surprise until it was removed once more. A small smile tugged at the corners of Caylunne's mouth as he closed his eyes for the final time.

Zevran was interesting and if he could Caylunne wanted to find out just how far the Antivan would go with this budding relationship of theirs. If it was still viable after tonight, anyway. However there was a lot to be said for the comforting presence of a big, stupid, adorable best friend and as he slowly drifted off to sleep beside Alistair, Caylunne decided that it wasn't so bad that his best friend was human.


	4. Chapter 4

Just a short one. D: Sorry for taking so long to update...

* * *

"No! Stop! Don't do that."

Zevran laughed and held his hands out to his sides slightly, as he watched Caylunne fumble around in his bag with an urgency that he really couldn't see any need for. "Stop doing what?"

"Stop _that_. Stop _talking_," Caylunne replied, looking infuriated and thoroughly rattled. His expression brightened immediately after, however, when he produced a small tan coloured cloth from his bag. Zevran exchanged a look with Alistair and Wynne, both of whom were standing a safe distance from the suddenly neurotic Caylunne.

"What-?"

The look Caylunne gave him then bordered on murderous as he carefully picked his way past the multitude of Darkspawn corpses that littered the ground around them, so Zevran closed his mouth again with a smile, his teeth clicking softly. "You have Darkspawn blood on your face," Caylunne finally explained once he deemed himself close enough to slap the other elf if he opened his mouth again. "It's on your lips. I don't want it getting in your mouth."

Alistair wiped the back of his hand across his own mouth, but only succeeded in smearing the blood across his face. "There's blood on my mouth. Why aren't you fussing over me?" he asked, pouting a little.

"I imagine it's because you are immune to the Darkspawn taint," Wynne replied calmly, clasping her hands in front of her and politely looking away as Caylunne finally set about wiping the blood off Zevran's face. None of the men noticed the slight hint of disapproval in her expression, but that was mostly because both elves were distracted, and Alistair was, as always, oblivious.

"Well, yeah, but... but...it _tastes_ bad."

Caylunne was quite firmly ignoring the exchange between his other two companions, as he was far too preoccupied making sure that none of the blood got into Zevran's mouth. Zevran himself, however, simply stood there, being perfectly well behaved for once in his life. Or rather, he was behaving himself outwardly, but if the rather suspicious looking quirk of his lips was anything to go by, his thoughts were less than honourable.

"You can stop looking at me like that too," the elven Warden said quietly, refusing to meet Zevran's eyes.

Zevran's shoulders lifted a little, and the corners of his mouth curled upwards. _Like what?_ he asked silently.

"Stop looking at me like you think I have some ulterior motive for doing this," Caylunne replied, choosing to ignore the fact he understood Zevran's body language enough to begin a one sided conversation with him. "You are the one who constantly insinuates things, not me. If anyone here is thinking something they shouldn't be, it's you."

The Antivan's eyes narrowed slightly, playfully, and he cocked one hip a little, an obviously flirty pose._ Not even a little bit?_

"No, I'm still not thinking anything like that, and if you keep this up, the only fantasies I'll be having about you will involve stringing you up." Caylunne muttered, as he cleaned the last bit of blood off Zevran's jaw.

A single eyebrow rose and his mouth tugged up at one corner into a suggestive smirk. _Is that a promise?_

Caylunne's eyes popped wide open when he realised the implications of what he'd said, and he slapped the cloth down on Zevran's shoulder. "You are- you just- stop twisting everything I say!" he protested, looking scandalised as he grabbed his bag and hurried away. Wynne fell into step beside him immediately, but Alistair hung back, glancing between Zevran and Caylunne with an increasingly confused expression.

"How did you make him go so pink without saying anything?"

Zevran plucked the cloth off his shoulder and tucked it into his own bag. He was still smiling a wickedly knowing smile. "I did nothing at all, Alistair," he said breezily as he started after Caylunne and Wynne, who were some way ahead of them now. "A guilty man will protest his innocence with or without accusation." When Alistair just blinked at him, looking none the wiser, he added, "I give it another week before he breaks and lets me have my way with him."

Alistair turned to stare at the back of Caylunne's head for a long moment, his own face turning a rather spectacular shade of scarlet.

"Oh. Right."

* * *

Silly Alistair. You should know better than to stick your nose into the business of elves. You're just going to come out of it scarred for life.


	5. Chapter 5

"I- I'm not... sure about this, Zevran..."

The timid hesitation was not at all unexpected, from what Zevran had seen of their leader so far. Caylunne had always come across as rather easy to embarrass when the subject of sex was brought up and the recent revelation of certain events in his past only helped to further explain his fears.

Taking a small step forward, hovering at the edge of Caylunne's personal space, but not quite invading it, Zevran put on his most reassuring smile and caught the younger elf's gaze. Caylunne wavered for a moment before relaxing and holding the eye contact almost steadily. Zevran took it to mean that his advances were welcome, at least so far, and took another step forward, bringing himself well and truly into Caylunne's comfort zone. Almost immediately the younger elf tensed up again and Zevran shifted his weight onto his back foot, holding his hands up reassuringly.

"Fear not, my Grey Warden. I will not do any more than you are comfortable with," he murmured, his tone gentle and palliative. "I do think this would be good for you, but I will not push you into something you do not want."

Caylunne fidgeted and glanced around the campsite. The others around them seemed to be absorbed in their own business – Alistair was toasting bread over the fire; Leliana was practising with her harp; Wynne had dragged Dog off to try and bathe him again; Morrigan was alone in her own little campsite, minding her own business as usual; Ohgren was passed out on the grass, and Sten was roaming the perimeter of the camp, watching for Darkspawn.

No one, it seemed, was going to offer him any help.

A feather light touch to his fingers made him jump and his gaze whipped back to Zevran, and then down to his hand. Zevran was running the pad of his thumb across his fingers softly, a gesture clearly intended to calm him. Instead it just made him wonder how badly he would react to outright sexual contact, if simply having his hand touched had sent his heart into his throat.

"Come to my tent," Zevran said after a pause, "We will take things slowly, and if at any time you feel it is too much for you, we can stop." His thumb stopped stroking and instead he curled his fingers around Caylunne's in a loose grip that could easily be broken if he so wished. "You have my word."

A single, nervous laugh escaped Caylunne and he fixed Zevran with a wry look that didn't do much to cover up the uncertainty and fear in his eyes. "Your word? That's charming, but I can't help wondering just how much the word of a self proclaimed backstabbing, womanising assassin is worth."

Zevran tilted his head slightly and gave Caylunne's hand a gentle squeeze. "Do you really think I would force myself on you?"

Staring at Zevran for a long moment, Caylunne thought the answer over in his head thoroughly. On the one hand, he didn't think he should trust Zevran as far as he could throw him. A man who apparently had no qualms about killing others for money did not seem to be overly concerned with morals. On the other hand, however, Zevran had never struck him as the sort to do such a thing. Even before he had found out about that one incident in Caylunne's past, he had been flirtatious, but tentatively so – testing the waters constantly and never once plunging in.

"No," he finally said, looking down at the ground between them. "I don't."

Zevran's grip and Caylunne's hand tightened a little more, and he took a small step backward, in the direction of his tent. He didn't say anything else, just gave Caylunne a questioning look. Still Caylunne hesitated, uncertainty and fear pooling low in his belly, but somewhere, somewhere in the back of his mind he wanted to trust Zevran. Perhaps it was because of the deal they had made, or perhaps it was because Zevran was the only one there who was kin to him.

And yet, as he finally stepped forward and allowed Zevran to lead him to the tent, he doubted it was either of those things at all. Instead, he thought, he just wanted someone he could trust unwaveringly and as unlikely and unsuitable as Zevran was for that position, it was the Antivan assassin that Caylunne found himself putting more and more trust in everyday.

* * *

So, someone, or possibly two someone's has expressed an interest in a Zevran/Caylunne/Alistair love triangle. While I did intend to focus solely on Zev, I'm not at all opposed to the idea of a love triangle, so tomorrow, I'll post a poll on my user page and let y'all decide for yourselves.

Also, the next instalment of this (yes, the smutty one) will_ not_ be posted to this story. I don't want to suddenly boost the rating on this, so instead I'm going to post it as a separate one shot. If you don't have me on your watch list then I suggest you come check my stories around about Christmas day-ish. I should be posting it then.


End file.
